What the Mind Forgets
by nicnac918
Summary: Memories or no, Stan Pines remains the world's greatest con man.


When Mabel came and settled down next to him in the chair with her scrapbook in hand, he found himself really hoping that this plan of hers would work. Not for himself, he was actually feeling pretty at peace with his lack of memories or identity. And maybe that lack of concern should be in itself concerning, but it just wasn't. It'd be like getting upset at the sky for being blue or water being wet or gnomes for being weird and creepy; sure you could, but what would be the point? It was just the way things were. But however he felt about it, the kids were upset, and so was that sort of gopher-looking guy that they'd picked up on their way back here, and even Ford, though he looked a little more resigned to the situation than the other three. So he really hoped this worked, because hearing the quaver in Dipper's voice and seeing the tears in Mabel's eyes was much more unacceptable to him than not knowing who he was.

(Stan, short for Stanley. Grunkle – whatever that meant. Maybe it was the hip new way to say uncle? He certainly felt old enough to be out of touch with what kids these days were saying – to Mabel and Dipper. Twin brother to Ford. Owner of a house that seemed like it was pretty nice, when it wasn't falling apart. A hero. That last one was a little harder to swallow, because he felt more like a screw-up than a hero, but right after he had woken up for the first time, Ford had hugged him and said, "You're our hero Stanley," and the kids, when they didn't look heartbroken, stared up at him like he'd hung the moon, so it must be true. The world was full of liars, but not these three. Not to him.)

It was a well-made scrapbook, and even some of the odder choices, like the macaroni interpretation of Mabel's emotions, were endearing and full of personality. The pictures were mostly of Dipper and Mabel, with frequent appearances by Stan as well as a few other assorted people, and a pig. None of Ford that he noticed, but maybe Ford didn't like having his picture taken, or just wasn't in the start of the album because Ford had come to visit later in the summer. But what really struck him was how happy, genuinely happy, they all appeared. Well, okay, Dipper hadn't looked too pleased in the first few pictures, but he had clearly quickly warmed to the idea of spending the summer with Stan. Other than that, even in the photos where they were being chased by monsters, or the police, they all seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least somewhat.

And that killed him, because he couldn't remember any of it. Not a single one of the pictures set off even a vague spark of memory. Mabel seemed to be able to tell this wasn't working, because she got more frantic and desperate as she tore through the pages of her scrapbook, as though she was certain one of these photos had to be the key to unlocking his memories, if she could only find the right one. The other three gathered around too, all of them hoping that this would be the magic solution to the problem that Ford, who seemed like the kind of guy who knew what he was talking about, said had no solution. He wasn't sure how to tell them that he was pretty sure Ford was correct, and there was no right picture. His memories weren't just lost or buried somewhere deep in his brain, they were _gone_.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what this is, or who you are, or-"

That was when the stupid pig started trying to climb up in his lap and licking him. "Gah! Quit it, Waddles. I'm trying to remember my life story."

"What did you say?" Dipper asked breathlessly.

"I said get Waddles off of me," he repeated, trying to hold the thing away from him, and still getting licked for his troubles.

All four of the others looked at him with stunned expressions. "It's working! Keep reading," Ford said.

Oh. That wasn't… He'd just seen Waddles' name on the page, written out in florescent pink pen and accented with glitter. He should tell them that he didn't remember the pig, or anything else.

"Skip to my page; he needs to remember our boss-employee relationship."

"Hey, just because I have amnesia don't go trying to give yourself a raise, Soos." Or maybe he could just pretend that he did remember. They all looked so happy, what was the harm in giving them what they wanted?

So he sat back down in his chair and let Mabel keep working her way through the scrapbook, starting at the beginning and slowly working their way page by page this time. She was more than happy to tell long stories about each photo, with Soos and Dipper chiming in for parts she had missed or when they thought she was getting the details wrong. It seemed that Ford really hadn't been there for this part of the summer, because he didn't have too much to say, but Ford did on occasion remark on things that reminded him of their shared childhood. He didn't have to do much himself, just nod and listen and occasionally make noises like something one of the others had said had made him remember something. A couple of times he pulled a trick like he was a fake psychic or Duck-tective, reading clues from the photos and captions and making a reasonable guesses at stuff that wasn't written down, but acting like he was remembering it. No one didn't seemed upset when he got it wrong, just blaming his "confusion" on the amnesia and correcting him. And when he managed to 'remember' something out correctly, they were thrilled.

They had been flipping through the album for maybe an hour or two when Soos told them he had to go home and check on his Abuelita. "Fine, but I better see you back here tomorrow, fixing this place up," he barked at Soos. "Just because we stopped the apocalypse today doesn't mean you can start expecting me to be making all kinds of allowances."

"Aye, aye, Mr. Pines," Soos said, snapping off a salute and nearly crying tears of joy, from which he surmised that he'd once again guessed correctly at the kind of thing Stan would say. It wasn't exactly hard; mostly it was things he would say himself, but a little more familiar. Then Soos grabbed him and, with a surprising amount of strength given Soos's doughy physique, hugged him. And that was. Good. He wouldn't stand for this mushy stuff every day, mind you, but he guessed they did just stop the apocalypse today. He could maybe make a few allowances.

After Soos was gone, the remaining four continued to slowly work their way through the scrapbook, going until they'd finally reached the last completed page – there were still a few blank ones left, which Mabel said she was saving for their birthday party and the end of summer. He closed the book and looked up, surprised to find that the world around them had gone dark in the meanwhile. Dark enough that someone had turned on the lights – whichh were miraculously unbroken and working, mostly – at some point, though for the life of him, he couldn't remember when.

"I think it's time for you kids to go to bed," he said.

"But Grunkle Stan, we're not tired!" Mabel replied, punctuating her words with a huge yawn. "We want to stay here with you."

"Besides, our room might not even be safe to sleep in, considering," Dipper said.

Which was a valid point, though he suspected that it wasn't their main concern, what with the big puppy dog eyes they were both giving him. "Well, obviously we're sleeping down here tonight. But I'm assuming you don't want to sleep in your clothes and without a pillow or blanket, do you? So, go get ready for bed."

Mabel squealed with excitement and threw her arms around him, Dipper copying her a moment later. And then in perfect sync like they had practiced it – which for all he knew, they had – they both said, "We love you Grunkle Stan."

"I love you kids too." It wasn't even a lie, mostly. He didn't know about love or anything yet, but they were both good kids. He cared about them and wanted them to be happy; if it wasn't love, well, that would come with time, he was sure.

After that they repeated the gesture for Ford, who looked as surprised as he had felt by it when it had been his turn. Of course, he had amnesia, so most things took him by surprise at least a little bit, but he didn't know what Ford's excuse was. That Mabel kid was clearly a hugger; you'd think Ford would be used to it by now.

"This is going to be so great!" Mabel enthused as the two kids ran upstairs. "It's like a family sleepover. Ooo, and we can all sleep puppy pile style."

"Hey you two be sure to brush your teeth and… wash your hair and junk!" he called after them. "Man, I do not like the sound of that 'puppy pile style.' That cannot possibly be good for my back."

"Stanley," Ford said, his tone a very serious 'now that the kids are gone we need to talk' kind of thing.

Crap. It was one thing tricking the kids… and Soos, though that seemed to amount to the same thing really, that he had his memory back. They were just kids, and the fact that they wanted to believe it was true far overwhelmed any good sense they might have had on the matter. Ford on the other hand, was an adult. Plus he was one of those science guys, and they were all about finding the truth, weren't they? _Plus_ given the picture in the scrapbook captioned "Mystery Twins Classic: Grand Reunion Tour!" which showed Stan going in for a hug while Ford tried to punch his lights out, there was no way Ford was going to let his desire to have Stan back override his common sense.

"I'm not sure if you remember this yet, but I feel I have to bring it up in case you do." Or maybe Ford really was going to let his emotions get the better of him. It was a good thing, he told himself firmly, that Ford hadn't noticed that he wasn't really his twin Stan, he was just some guy faking at having memories, because it made his job of pretending a lot easier. But it still made him feel scooped out and hollow inside. "Not too long after you managed to open the portal and bring me home, I told you I wanted my name back and my house back. I do still want my name back – I'm not planning on spending the rest of my life hiding away, and you shouldn't have to spend the rest of it pretending to be someone you're not – but it was selfish of me to expect you to leave. This place has been your home for thirty years, much longer than I ever lived here. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want and I, I wouldn't want you to leave anyway."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Being told he was on the verge of being kicked out of the house he hadn't even realized he didn't own and invited back all it once was a bit much to process, even if he hadn't been dealing with all this other stuff. Finally he settled on the truth, more or less. "I hadn't remembered that yet. But good to know, you know, for when I do."

"Oh," Ford said, looking a bit embarrassed, but after a moment he rallied. "There something else too. I confess that I'm still not sure that opening at the portal and bringing me back to this dimension was the right thing to do, even now after everything turned out alright. But after seeing you lose your memory… Well, I realized, right or not, it's what I would've done too in your position, with full knowledge of the potential consequences. And, regardless of anything else, I _am_ glad to be back home, in good old Dimension 46'\\. So, thank you, Stanley. Really."

He found himself blinking rapidly, without really knowing why. "Well I suppose late gratitude is better than no gratitude," he said gruffly, trying to hide the stinging in his eyes.

Ford gave him a knowing sort of smile in response to that, but was prevented from saying anything else by Dipper and Mabel coming back down the stairs to the living room. They were dressed in pajamas and were carrying as many pillows and blankets as they could fit in their arms, with more dragging along the floor behind them, and even more draped over the back of Waddles, who had also been somehow convinced to carry a pillow in his mouth – Mabel was definitely using that one. The two hadn't been gone nearly long enough to have also brushed their teeth, but he wasn't going to worry about it; he didn't get the impression that Stan had ever been that concerned about that kind of stuff before. Besides, a cavity or two never seriously hurt anyone. They got their miles of bedding arranged in the way that Mabel claimed was best suited to puppy pile style, which turn out to mean and all curled up together on the floor. That was definitely going to be bad for his back, but neither himself nor Ford had the heart to tell the kids no, so they tucked the two little ones into their nest of pillows and blankets and promised to join them shortly. He had Ford show him to the restroom, which was functional, and that was probably the best that could be said for it at the moment. He took care of his business quickly, and handed over the bathroom to Ford.

He went back to the living room and looked down at the kids, who in the five minutes he had been gone had completely passed out. Hardly surprising, given the long day they had apparently had. He should probably go try to crawl in there with them like he said he would, but he found himself settling back into the recliner again instead. Stan had slept here a lot, he thought. Probably why his back was so messed up. He picked up the scrapbook again and settled it on his lap, his hand running back and forth over the cover.

"Hey," he said when he heard Ford to walk back in. "Do I have any more scrapbooks lying around, do you know? Or photos or something? Or maybe I kept some journals; I definitely remember some kind of journals." Specifically, he remembered Dipper mentioning the Journals, capital letter and all, at least ten times that day.

"You're probably thinking of my journals. I know you spent a lot of time reading them," Ford said. "Although, I suppose you might have kept your own journal as well. And I'm sure there are extra photos around. We can look around while we're cleaning up tomorrow."

"That'd be good. I think it might help me with my memories." Like most things he said, it wasn't entirely a lie.

"Alright. So, are you coming to join this 'puppy pile' or are you going to sleep in the chair?" Ford asked, eyeing the twins and their bunch of blankets like he was trying to figure out some complex math problem. Finally he found what he seemed to think was a good spot, and got down in there with them on the far side next to Dipper. Dipper, still asleep, gave up a part of his hold on Mabel to snuggle up to Ford, leaving an empty spot open behind Mabel. It would have made a nice little family picture, Stan and Ford, Mabel and Dipper, two pairs of Pines twins curled up together.

"I'm come down there in another minute," he said giving Ford a weak smile and clicking off the lamp.

"Either way," Ford said. That was followed by a long, nearly deafening silence and then, "I love you, Stanley."

Even without everything that had come out earlier about what had gone down between Stan and Ford, the tone of Ford's voice alone would have tipped him off to the fact that it had been a long time since Ford said that. Forty years, if he had to guess. Those words probably would have meant _everything_ to Stan had they come a day earlier. But now… well, they weren't nothing. And that, he supposed, was something. "Love you too, Ford."

Ford fell asleep within minutes, but despite feeling exhausted down to his bones, he couldn't quite manage the same yet. Instead he opened the scrapbook and began flipping through the pages again, even though it was way too dark to see anything other than vague shapes.

The thing about Stan Pines, was that it wasn't just who he had been, it was still who he was, personality-wise at least. Most of the things that the kids told him about what Stan did sounded like things he would do too, in the same situation. Well, maybe not having Dipper and Mabel help him counterfeit money as a bonding experience; Mabel's art was good, but it wasn't that good. And a couple of other things too, but, amnesia aside, if a person couldn't change a bit after going through the apocalypse, then when could they? Even being a hero… it still didn't sound like him, but if it came down to that or the kids being killed by some pointy triangle demon… yeah, he could see it. And what Stan Pines was, not above all else, but right up there, was a con man. He'd spent thirty years making everyone think he was his brother, all so he could save Ford from wherever he had been sent to. He didn't know what more proof anyone would need of a return to form than that.

Those three had picked him up when he was nothing, kneeling in the grass with no idea who he was. And they had cared for him and cared about him and given a place to belong. A perfectly Stan Pines sized place. And so what if it were like trying to fit an octagonal peg in a round hole? It was good enough, wasn't it? All Mabel and Dipper and Ford wanted from him was to have Stan back, and he could do that, so long as he could keep them from looking too close.

He, _Stan_ would do anything for his family.


End file.
